


I Can Feel You Breathing Under My Skin

by jjmash



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Body Image, M/M, Post-Canon, Scars, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-24 06:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30068316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjmash/pseuds/jjmash
Summary: Neil starts getting tattoos his second year with the Foxes. Andrew has Thoughts about it.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 18
Kudos: 327





	1. Ribbons

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so listen: all of my knowledge of tattoos and the tattooing process comes from watching Ink Master, so everything in here is pretty unrealistic. Just go with it.
> 
> Title is from Under My Skin by Jukebox the Ghost, which always reminds me of Andrew.
> 
> CW: vague references to past canon abuse / torture

Neil got his first voluntary tattoo mostly by accident. 

It was coming up on the one year anniversary of his hellish visit to Evermore, and between final exams and an uptick in his Riko-related nightmares, Neil was exhausted. It’d been a struggle to even get out of bed that morning, but Matt was getting a tattoo as his Christmas gift to himself and Neil had agreed to tag along so they could finish their holiday shopping together afterwards; having people to buy presents for was both a privilege and a responsibility, and Neil was too overwhelmed by the task to do it by himself. 

While Matt enthusiastically explained what he wanted to one of the artists, Neil wandered around the perimeter of the shop examining the photos of completed tattoos that were pasted all over the walls. He came to a stop in front of a small polaroid picture of a rather gruesome black-and-white design. The tattoo had been done to look like the skin of the person’s back had been ripped apart to reveal the muscle and bone underneath. The top of the inked-on wound was open and gaping, jagged flesh peeling grotesquely around the edges, but the bottom looked like it had been stitched together using a thick black ribbon. It made for an arresting visual that Neil found himself drawn to.

“See anything you like?” A heavily tattooed woman with bright pink hair sidled up next to him and Neil resisted the urge to take several steps away from her.

He shrugged disinterestedly but gestured to the polaroid he’d been staring at.

The woman nodded. “That’s one of my favorites. A little dark and a shit ton of work, but it was fun to do.”

“You drew that?” Neil asked, impressed.

“Sure did. You interested in getting a piece?”

“I’ve got enough scars,” Neil said wryly, and he could feel her looking at the marks on his face.

Neil wasn’t particularly self-conscious about them anymore, but he was briefly worried about what she might say. He’d noticed that strangers typically reacted to his scars in one of two ways: abject horror, or morbid delight. People with excessive tattoos and piercings tended to fall into the latter category, and Neil could never decide if hearing his scars described as “edgy” was better or worse than the pity he usually received for them. 

Thankfully, the woman didn’t comment. Instead she rolled up her shirt sleeve to display a connecting series of intricate vines and florals that wound around her forearm and up her bicep. “I had scars once too,” she said.

Neil hadn’t known that scars could be hidden with ink. He took a second to imagine what he would look like with a torso covered in art rather than a patchwork of bad memories but immediately dismissed the idea – his scars were proof of his survival, and he wasn’t hiding anymore. Yet the prospect of having a mark on his body that he’d put there of his own volition was undeniably appealing.

“I don’t want to cover anything up,” he said hesitantly. “But I wouldn’t mind getting something new.”

The woman smiled back at him. “I have time right now, if you’re ready. I’m Mica, by the way.”

“Neil,” he introduced himself. He took another look at the photo on the wall that had initially captured his attention. “I’m ready.”

Mica was already pressing a stenciled design onto his skin by the time Matt realized what was going on. He hustled over to Neil, who looked up at him passively from the chair he was reclining in.

“Neil? What are you doing?”

“Getting a tattoo,” he replied easily.

Matt stood gaping at him for a moment while Mica finished the transfer. “Of what?” he asked finally.

Neil gestured to the faint purple stencil on the side of his thigh. “Ribbons.”

“But...why?”

“I think it’ll look cool. And it’ll be nice to get a tattoo that I actually want.”

Matt had that vaguely sick look on his face that he always got when Neil talked about the time he’d spent at Evermore. He wanted to apologize for bringing it up but then Matt would just be upset that he was apologizing, so Neil stayed quiet.

“Are you going to be okay with the needle?”

“Needles aren’t knives,” Neil said, surprised that Matt would even think to be concerned about it.

“It’ll hurt,” Matt warned, but he sounded less uncertain than before. 

“I know.” 

Neil found a sense of comfort in pain; aching muscles and bruises were usually preceded by hard practices and well-fought Exy games, and Neil had no problem with the physical reminder that he was being allowed to play the sport he loved. Pain had also simply been his norm for a long time, and when he was on the run it had meant he was still alive. He didn’t tell anyone that, though, because he was pretty sure that it would make Nicky cry and make Matt want to hit things. Andrew probably suspected, but Andrew knew everything anyway. 

“What do you think?” Mica asked once she’d finished transferring the stencil. 

There were minimalist outlines of ribbons criss-crossing down Neil’s thigh starting from just below the hem of his boxers and twisting behind and around his knee to end halfway down his shin. Mica had drawn the ribbons so that they seemed to be sewn through Neil’s skin like sutures, and the design unintentionally reminded Neil of Andrew’s armbands.

“Let’s do it,” Neil said.

Matt hovered for the first few minutes, but once he confirmed that Neil wasn’t bothered by the needle or the pain he left to get started on his own tattoo. The pain was even less obtrusive than Neil had expected and the buzzing whir of the tattoo machine made for soothing background noise. Neil soon felt his eyelids drooping despite the bright overhead lights of the shop.

Mica paused briefly. “Do you feel like you’re going to pass out? Do you need a break, maybe get something to eat?” she asked kindly.

Neil shook his head and did his best to stifle a yawn. “No. I might fall asleep though, is that okay? I can stay awake if you need me to.”

She looked at him incredulously. “You’re going to fall asleep?”

“Final exams,” he said by way of explanation.

Mica stared at him for another beat but then shrugged. “As long as you keep still it should be fine.”

Neil nodded at her. “Cool,” he said, and almost immediately drifted off to sleep.

He woke up when the noise of the tattoo machine cut out and Mica moved out of the way so he could look down at the final result. It was better than he could’ve imagined, and seeing something on his skin that he’d actually asked to have put there was unexpectedly empowering. Neil respected his body because it allowed him to play Exy and touch Andrew, but he didn’t particularly _like_ it; he’d always considered it more of a tool to be used than something to be enjoyed. This tattoo, though, was anything but utilitarian, and even Neil could appreciate how beautiful it was.

“Thank you,” he said, grinning sleepily at Mica. 

Matt came back over, his bicep already wrapped up to protect his new ink, and he let out a low whistle as he inspected Neil’s leg.

“That’s sick, Neil. Andrew’s going to freak.”

Neil rubbed at his eyes groggily. “Andrew doesn’t freak out about anything, ‘s why I love him,” he said, still mostly asleep.

He missed the stunned look on Matt’s face, too busy watching Mica tape a bandage over his tattoo and listening to her explain the aftercare instructions. He levered himself up out of the chair and was halfway to the front counter when he realized that Matt wasn’t following him.

“Matt?” he questioned, backtracking to his friend.

Matt stared at him with wide eyes. “Did you say you love Andrew?”

Neil quickly reviewed the past few minutes of conversation in his head. “Oh. Yeah,” he said, shrugging casually.

“You _love_ him?”

Neil frowned. “You thought I didn’t?”

“I don’t...no?”

“We’ve been together for almost a year,” Neil said. “We live together. I drive his car.”

“But I mean, it’s Andrew,” Matt said, distraught.

“So?”

 _“So,_ does he even love you back?”

“Yeah,” Neil drew the word out slowly, confused by Matt’s apparent shock.

“How can you even tell? Because seriously, Neil, I can’t picture him saying the word love.”

“I just know,” he said, and it was the honest truth. He’d never really had to think about it; at some point, he’d realized that Andrew cared about him – that Andrew loved him, in his own way.

“I don’t understand you guys at all,” Matt said. “You don’t want to hear him say it? Like, not even once?”

“Why would I need to hear him say it? I already _know,”_ Neil pointed out. He didn’t know how to explain that Andrew’s actions spoke of love far louder than his voice ever could.

“Fair enough,” Matt said, shaking his head. “So, Christmas shopping?”

There wasn’t a real reason for Andrew to attend late night practices with Kevin and Neil now that Riko and the Moriyamas were no longer a threat, but he still tagged along more often than not. Occasionally he even deigned to join in, though Neil had stopped trying to predict what Andrew would choose to do on any given day. 

Tonight Andrew was sitting on the Foxes’ home bench, flipping his phone between his fingers while he watched Kevin and Neil run through drills. To anyone else, Andrew would have appeared as bored and impassive as he always was, but Neil could feel Andrew’s eyes following him intently around the court. They were nearly an hour into practice when Andrew banged loudly on the plexiglass to get Neil’s attention. Neil jogged over to him when beckoned, his head cocked to the side in a silent question. Andrew gestured to Neil’s leg, and Neil looked down in surprise. He’d been focusing so hard on getting through the last few days of finals and Exy practices that he’d forgotten about his outing with Matt.

“Oh. Yeah, I got a tattoo.”

Andrew stared back at him blankly, but Neil couldn’t tell yet if it was interest or disapproval that lurked behind the other man’s eyes. He was struck suddenly by how important it was to him that Andrew like the new addition to Neil’s skin; he’d never felt a need to be desired before, but he wanted Andrew to want him.

“You’re not supposed to exercise with a new tattoo,” was all Andrew said in response, but his eyes kept flicking down to the few inches of dark ink that were visible between the bottom of Neil's gym shorts and the top of his shin guards. 

“They said no strenuous activity,” Neil said. “Practice isn’t strenuous.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Your idiot,” Neil shot back. Per usual, Andrew didn’t respond.

“Hey,” Kevin shouted from the halfcourt line. “There’s only two days left until break, we need to practice!”

Neil gave him the finger but ran back onto the court anyway, feeling slightly gratified by the way Andrew’s gaze followed him the whole way there.

The Foxes were going their separate ways for the holidays: Matt and Dan to New York, Renee and Allison to North Dakota, Nicky to Germany to visit Erik, Aaron to Katelyn’s parents’ place in Connecticut. Kevin was spending half the break with Jean in California and the other half with Wymack in an awkward attempt at father-son bonding, leaving Neil and Andrew with the house to themselves in Columbia. 

Knowing that he wouldn’t be there to run them ragged on the court, Kevin had spent the month leading up to winter break harping on both Neil and Andrew about not getting lazy. Neil was planning to make good use of the empty Foxhole court over the holidays, but he doubted that Andrew would even pick up a racquet during their time off. 

Finals eventually came to an end, much to everyone’s general relief. Neil and Andrew dropped the others off at the airport on their way to Columbia, and Neil let the relative silence and the gentle rolling of the car lull him to sleep. Andrew prodded him awake once they got to the house, and Neil was surprised to see grocery bags already stacked in the back of the car; he hadn’t expected to sleep for so long or for Andrew to let him skip out on shopping, and he hoped that the other man had thought to buy something other than ice cream and candy. 

Andrew wordlessly stepped aside to let Neil unlock the front door the way he always did, and they’d only just closed it behind them when Andrew dropped the bags he was carrying on the floor of the entryway and took a step into Neil’s personal space. 

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked, staring at Neil in a way that set his blood on fire.

“Yes,” he breathed, and Andrew caught his lips in a bruising kiss, backing him into the wall beside the front door. There was no one to walk in on them and no practice to run to or classes to study for, and Neil marveled at their newfound freedom.

Andrew pulled away from the kiss far too soon, but Neil swallowed his disappointment when the other man dropped to his knees instead. 

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked again, his fingers hooked under the waistband of Neil’s sweatpants.

“God, yes.”

Andrew tugged the pants down roughly but kept one hand pressed to Neil’s hip to prevent him from stepping out of them. It took Neil a moment to realize that Andrew was staring at the tattoo on his thigh, apparently entranced by the swirling design.

“Andrew?” he asked after a long moment. “You okay?”

Andrew nodded but didn’t look away from the tattoo.

“I need a yes or no,” Neil said, growing increasingly concerned when Andrew continued to silently stare at his leg. It wasn’t uncomfortable to be looked at by Andrew, who’d already seen every one of his scars and had never appeared anything other than apathetic toward them, but Neil was worried that the tattoo was somehow triggering Andrew into remembering things that were better left in the past.

“Why?” Andrew finally asked.

“Why get a tattoo, or why get this tattoo?” 

Andrew just gave a sharp nod.

“It was kind of an impulse thing,” Neil said. “I went with Matt to get his and I saw a design I liked. The ribbons remind me of your armbands.”

Andrew reached out a hand to trace along the ink on Neil’s thigh, his fingertips leaving trails of fire on Neil’s skin and causing him to shiver involuntarily. 

“I like having something that I put there,” Neil continued when it became clear that Andrew wasn’t going to respond verbally. “It looks better than Riko’s sick idea of a tattoo ever did, and it hurt a hell of a lot less than the shit Lola carved into me.”

Andrew’s grip on Neil’s hip tightened painfully at the reminder of Baltimore, then relaxed again into a feather-light touch. He peered up at Neil from the floor. “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Neil said. It had been a while since Andrew had needed such repeated and explicit consent; they’d been together long enough that it had gotten easy to read body language and trust that the other person would speak up if they wanted to stop. But Neil was always happy to say yes if Andrew needed to hear it.

Andrew slowly leaned forward so that his lips brushed over the sensitive skin of Neil’s thigh, and then he began kissing his way down Neil’s leg using the tattoo as a guide. It was gentler than Andrew usually was, just light presses of lips to skin, but it still made Neil feel like he was about to spontaneously combust. He slowly brought his hand to rest on Andrew’s head, making sure that the other man could see it in his peripheral vision so that he had time to push it away if he wanted to, and carded his fingers through Andrew’s silky, white-blond hair.

“Andrew,” he said, and his voice already sounded halfway to wrecked. “Does this mean you like the tattoo?”

Andrew pulled his head back to glare up at Neil, but there was a familiar heat in his eyes that sent a jolt of pleasure through Neil's core. “I want to murder you 99% of the time.”

“As long as you hate me 100% of the time,” Neil said, smiling unabashedly. 

“I do.”

“That’s fine, then.”

Andrew reattached his lips to Neil’s skin and set to work thoroughly taking him apart.


	2. A Rabbit and a Fox

Neil was in the process of shouting himself hoarse on the court in an effort to get the freshmen to pay some attention to their goddamn footwork when Robin nudged him lightly on the shoulder. Neil paused just long enough in his yelling to follow her gaze up to where a familiar blond-haired man was slouched in the stands, his black clothing stark against the orange stadium seats. 

Neil felt his heart swoop at the unexpected surprise and he raised a single hand in greeting. Andrew didn’t wave back, but he meandered down the steps until he was just on the other side of the plexiglass from Neil. 

“Your attitude is fully intact, I see.”

Neil grinned back at him. “I’ve got to get them in shape before summer break or they’ll come back even worse. I can’t leave Robin to deal with them like this.”

“Kevin would be so proud,” Andrew said dryly. 

“I just need fifteen more minutes.”

“Junkie,” Andrew responded, but he motioned Neil back to the freshmen and took a seat on one of the benches to watch.

It was almost impossible to keep the freshmen's attention once they caught sight of Andrew; none of them had known him as a Fox, but they were well aware of his reputation as both the best and most volatile goalie in the country. It took thirty minutes to do what should've taken fifteen, and Neil was embarrassed to find himself practically shaking with anticipation by the time he finally called an end to practice. It had been nearly three months since he’d last seen Andrew, and he had felt the heavy, expectant weight of Andrew’s gaze on him while he ran the rookies through their drills.

Neil fidgeted and waited until most of the team had cleared out of the locker room before stripping his gear off and making his way to the showers. The water had just barely warmed up when there was a sharp knock on the stall door. Neil wrenched it open and was saying yes before Andrew even had a chance to ask the question. Andrew stepped right under the spray with him, crushing their lips together with rough desperation.

“Yes, Andrew,” Neil moaned into the crook of the other man’s neck when they finally slid together with just the right kind of friction.

Everything was going to be okay.

Neil felt a restless piece of himself settle into quiet contentment as he breathed in the smoke from Andrew’s cigarette on the roof later that night. They were sitting pressed shoulder-to-shoulder as near to the edge as they dared, Andrew taking advantage of their closeness to lazily stroke one finger across the tattoo on Neil’s thigh. Sometimes it seemed like Andrew wasn’t even fully conscious of his apparent fixation with Neil’s tattoo, but Neil certainly wasn’t going to discourage it.

“I’m getting another one,” Neil said, gesturing down to the ink on his leg. Andrew’s hand paused in its movement, but he didn’t withdraw it from Neil’s thigh.

“I suppose you’ll get a ridiculous fox paw like the rest of them.”

“That’s the plan. Matt made me promise to wait until they get here to have it done,” Neil said, unbothered by Andrew’s feigned disapproval. Neil’s entire freshman year team would be converging on PSU in less than a month for Neil’s graduation. Allison had already rented out a huge house on the beach for them, and Wymack and Abby were – to Neil’s horror – throwing him a graduation party.

“Matt thinks I should get it on my bicep to match him and Nicky,” Neil said idly, reaching to grab another cigarette from the pack resting near Andrew’s knee.

“Don’t,” Andrew warned, his hand shooting up to wrap tightly around Neil’s wrist.

“Don’t what?”

“Not on your arm.”

“Why not?” Neil asked, curious.

Aside from occasionally shoving bags of new clothes at him, Andrew never seemed to particularly care about Neil’s appearance. Hearing Andrew express an opinion on the placement of Neil’s tattoo was unexpected and disconcerting.

Andrew stared at him searchingly for a moment, and Neil could practically see him trying to decide how much of the truth to give away. “He had a tattoo there,” Andrew said nonchalantly, flicking a bit of ash off the end of his cigarette.

Neil didn’t have to ask for clarification to know he meant Drake. Neil let silence hang between them for a long while, unsure of how to proceed. Neil had been at Aaron’s trial when Andrew testified, but other than that day in court Andrew had never talked about Drake or the Spears. Neil was torn between wanting to know everything Andrew was willing to share and being afraid to press too hard on that still-bleeding wound.

“I’ll never get anything on my arm,” Neil promised. “Any other places off limits?”

“Back. Stomach.”

“Neck?” Neil asked, forcing himself to keep his voice casual to match Andrew’s attitude. His gut was swirling with a familiar, inherited rage that he’d tried unsuccessfully to bury with Nathaniel, and long-dormant guilt over his role in Drake’s final attack on Andrew was rising up like bile in the back of his throat.

Andrew nodded his okay, and Neil let out a shallow breath. “Thanks for telling me.”

Andrew rolled his eyes but no retort was forthcoming, so they sat in comfortable silence until it grew too cold to stay on the roof.

Neil’s graduation ceremony flew by in a wash of orange and white. He only half-listened to the speeches, concentrating too hard on reigning in a panic attack to focus on the words being pumped through the auditorium. Neil used to shed names like other people did clothing, but giving up his position as a starting striker for Palmetto was terrifying; he’d clung to his identity as a Fox like a literal lifeline back when he’d been willing to trade his safety for one season of Exy, and now he was being forced to leave it behind.

It was only the thought of his old teammates and closest friends waiting for him somewhere in the audience that kept Neil from spiraling into a full-blown meltdown while the commencement speaker rambled on about new beginnings and exciting opportunities. Andrew must have sensed how close Neil was to losing it, because he immediately placed a hand on the nape of Neil’s neck when he found him in the post-ceremony crowd. 

“Breathe,” he commanded calmly, and Neil worked to suck in a few deep breaths. He managed to paste on a marginally more sane expression by the time the others joined them. 

“Congratulations!” Dan squealed, and Matt clapped him heartily on the back.

Neil’s smile turned genuine as the Foxes each took turns greeting him enthusiastically. Wymack and Abby were the last to track them down, and Abby immediately folded him into her arms in a way that reminded Neil of the first time she’d hugged him in her office after he got back from Evermore his freshman year.

“Nice going, kid,” Wymack said gruffly. “Abby’s been cooking all day and I stocked her fridge with half the liquor store. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

It had been a long time since Neil felt the need to be careful with what he said around the Foxes, but he still wasn’t usually a big drinker. In the safety of Abby’s house and standing on the precipice of another panic attack, Neil decided to make an exception.

It was just after midnight and Neil was drunker than he’d ever been. The Foxes seemed to find his uncharacteristic inebriation funny – Neil would definitely need to find a way to convince them to delete the pictures they’d taken once he was capable of forming full sentences again – but Andrew was concerned. It was so subtle that Neil doubted that the others could even tell, but the deepened lines around Andrew’s eyes and the tense set of his jaw were like flashing neon signs to Neil.

He poked at Andrew’s cheek and frowned, swaying slightly even as he sat on the couch. “Stop worrying,” he said. Or thought he said, anyway – he couldn’t really feel his tongue. 

“You’re a mess,” Andrew replied, batting Neil’s finger away from his face. 

Neil just stared back at him, mesmerized by the way Andrew’s mouth moved when he spoke. 

“What?” Andrew asked irritatedly.

Neil blinked slowly. “Pretty,” he said dumbly. “You’re so _pretty.”_

Nicky laughed uproariously from somewhere to his left and Matt choked on his drink.

“Oh my god,” Dan snickered. “He is so drunk.”

Neil’s attention was pulled away from Andrew’s face by Kevin’s loud voice. “You’re making a fool of yourself,” he said in disparaging French.

Neil jabbed an accusing finger in his direction. “You’re the alcoholic,” he slurred back in English.

Kevin shook his head. “I can’t believe I ever volunteered to make sure you didn’t say anything stupid when you were drunk. It’s obviously an impossible job.”

“Don’t need you,” Neil said gleefully. “Drew’s takin’ care of me.” And then he leaned over to rest his head on Andrew’s shoulder and promptly fell asleep.

Neil woke up on Abby’s couch with a hangover that was only a little bit less terrible than the one he’d had the morning after his disastrous first trip to Eden’s Twilight. He took a moment to enjoy the feeling of Andrew’s strong arms around him, the other man’s chest pressed tight to his back, and then heaved himself off the sofa. He stumbled his way to the bathroom to throw up whatever alcohol remained in his system, downed a few ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet, tracked down his shoes in the front entry, and set off on a run.

When he got back to Abby’s house nearly an hour later, most of the other Foxes were awake and slumped over the kitchen table in various states of disarray; Andrew and Renee were the only ones who showed no signs of the previous night’s activities. Matt pried his head up off the table to stare incredulously at Neil when he entered the room.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he groaned loudly. 

Dan slapped weakly at Matt’s arm in a nonverbal warning to lower his voice and said, “It’s Neil. Of course he went for a run.”

“How are you even alive right now?” Nicky questioned, looking pale and uncomfortably close to vomiting. “You were so out of it last night, it’s not fair that you’re all chipper and shiny at nine in the fucking morning.”

Neil just shrugged and moved to brew a pot of coffee for whoever could stomach it. “I’ve had worse.”

Andrew snorted, and Neil shot him a confused glance. “What?”

“That’s your excuse for everything,” Andrew said in Russian.

“Well it’s the truth.”

Allison waved a hand at them without raising her head from its resting place on her forearm. “No foreign languages before noon.”

After several glasses of water and enough coffee to fill a Starbucks, the slightly worse-for-wear Foxes managed to trudge their way to a diner with tables big enough to fit all of them. They shoved down a few stacks of pancakes and assorted greasy breakfast food, and then headed off to sweat out the last of the alcohol at the beach. Neil and Andrew hung back by themselves at the dorm for most of the day (Neil studiously ignored Nicky’s little nudges and winks) but they met up with the others in the late afternoon so that they could all go to the tattoo shop together. Most of the Foxes waited outside to avoid crowding the small space, but Andrew and Matt both followed Neil into the shop. 

Matt looked surprised when he saw the design that Neil and the artist had come up with: the outline of a fox paw print with a small, shaded-in rabbit in the middle. “Why a rabbit?” he asked.

Neil ran a finger over the sketch. “Who I am and who I was. A fox, and a rabbit.”

Andrew placed his hand over Neil’s to stop it moving and hooked their pinkies together – the closest they ever got to holding hands in public. “I thought you were done running.”

“I am. But it’s still there.” He looked to Andrew for reassurance. “That’s okay, right?”

“I’m not your answer,” Andrew reminded him, but he squeezed Neil’s pinky in response anyway.

Matt glanced between the two of them but didn't question their odd exchange. “Did you decide where you’re getting it?” he asked instead.

“Back of my neck.” 

Judging from the way Andrew’s hand twitched against his, the other man understood the significance of the placement; it was the spot that Andrew reached for to bring Neil back from panic attacks and flashbacks, and Andrew was the only one allowed to touch him there.

Neil had to lay face down so that the tattoo artist could work on his neck and he quickly felt a heavy drowsiness slip over him. He fought to keep his eyes open as the pricking of the needle faded to a dull pressure under his skin.

“Damn Neil, not even a twitch. You’re making the rest of us look bad,” Matt teased, his low voice shaking Neil back to wakefulness. 

“Pain doesn’t bother me. I’ve had worse,” Neil said for the second time that day, too sleepy to be careful with his word choice.

Matt made a soft distressed noise and Neil knew he shouldn’t have said anything about his high pain tolerance – it only served to remind everyone of exactly what “worse” he’d had.

“You’re a moron,” Andrew said lightly, though his eyes betrayed the depth of his anger. Neil knew that fury wasn’t directed at him, but Matt looked worried.

Neil waved them both off. “I’m fine,” he said.

“You are at one hundred percent,” Andrew warned him. “Do not say it again.”

Neil nodded his understanding while Matt continued to look confused. 

“Even when you guys are speaking English I don’t understand a thing you say.” Neither man bothered explaining it to him, so Matt just threw his hands up in good-natured exasperation. “Okay, I’m going to wait with the others. Obviously you’ve got it under control.”

The tattoo artist handed Neil a hand mirror so he could see the tattoo once it was finished, and he stared at the reflection of the fox paw for a long moment before looking back at Andrew.

“I don’t want to give it up,” he admitted, knowing that the other man would understand what he meant.

“Then don’t,” Andrew said. “You can be more than one thing.”

Neil mulled over Andrew’s words while his friends fawned over his new ink; he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to hold enough space in his heart to be a rabbit, a Fox, and someone new. But as he looked around at his little makeshift family and locked eyes with the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, he thought he could give it a try.


	3. A Key

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter diverges a bit from Nora's extra content fyi

Through the haze of a concussion and the fuzziness of pain medication, Neil could hear Andrew shouting somewhere in the distance.

 _That’s not right,_ he thought dimly. _Andrew is in Chicago._

Andrew also didn’t usually raise his voice, but Neil was too busy struggling to recall what he'd been doing that brought Andrew to Portland in the first place to consider that detail. He vaguely remembered the first part of his home game against Boston – strong point lead after the first quarter, lots of dirty plays in the second – but his mind was void of anything after halftime. Eventually Neil gave up trying to parse through his jumbled memories and let himself drift back into comfortable numbness, the beeping machinery keeping time with his heart.

The first thing Neil saw when he opened his eyes again was an absolutely seething Andrew. Rage poured off of the tiny man in thick waves the likes of which Neil hadn’t seen since the hotel room in Baltimore where Andrew had come perilously close to assaulting several FBI agents. 

“Andrew?” he croaked out.

Some of the fury got tucked away behind the screen of Andrew’s blank eyes as he helped Neil sit up and sip water from a styrofoam cup.

“We’re getting married,” Andrew said, a sharp edge to his voice.

“Sure,” Neil agreed easily. “What happened?”

“You got knocked out by Johnson.”

“Oh.” Neil wracked his brain for the memory and got a brief flash of being slammed hard into the boards by Boston's hulking backliner. “You were watching the match? I’m surprised he got me that bad.”

“He wouldn’t have gotten you at all if you hadn’t decided to sacrifice yourself for that goal, fucking martyr.”

“Did we win?”

Andrew stared at him. “You are worse than a junkie.”

“Andrew,” Neil persisted. “Did we win?”

“Yes.”

Neil leaned back into his pillows. “Good. Sorry for scaring you.”

“I wasn’t scared, I want to fucking kill you,” Andrew replied, but he visibly relaxed as he said the words.

“Why are we getting married?” Neil asked, abruptly returning to Andrew’s earlier statement.

“When I got here they wouldn’t let me see you.”

“But you’re my power of attorney.”

Andrew glared at the floor. “I didn’t have the paperwork with me. I was too busy getting on a plane to come here and murder you.”

Neil ignored the death threat with the ease of long practice. “You couldn’t call the lawyers?”

“Waterhouse wasn’t picking up his phone. Sound familiar?”

Neil thought of his probably uncharged cellphone sitting in his locker at the stadium and winced at the justified dig. “Okay, so we’ll get married.”

Andrew nodded once in confirmation and slumped into the chair at his fiance’s bedside.

Neil waited until he was released from the hospital and then gave Andrew’s rage another three full days to dissipate before broaching the subject again. “Were you serious about getting married?”

Andrew glanced over at Neil from the other end of the couch, his arms folded over Neil’s shins where they rested across his lap. “Yes,” he said.

“Because of the hospital stuff or because you want to marry me?”

“Does it matter?”

Neil thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know. It’s not like I had any shining examples of healthy marriages around when I was growing up, I’m not sure how it’s supposed to work.” Neil ignored Andrew’s rude snort at the understatement and continued, “I don’t know anything about being someone’s husband.” He wrinkled his nose at his own choice of phrase. “And I don’t think I like the word 'husband.' It sounds weird.”

“I’m not asking you to be someone's husband,” Andrew scoffed.

“But you are asking me to marry you?”

“It's an option.”

“Okay then,” Neil said, “let’s get married.” And then he turned his attention back to the movie playing on the TV.

All in all, being engaged changed Neil’s life very little. He still spent his mornings at the gym, his afternoons at practice, and his evenings watching old Exy matches. Most of the energy he had left over was dedicated to missing Andrew and ignoring how empty his apartment felt without the goalie’s presence.

They’d agreed to get married in July, which was the next time there was a break in both of their schedules. That gave them just over four months to reconsider the whole thing, but Neil had settled into the idea of marrying Andrew surprisingly easily; he’d never had time to come up with expectations for marriage when so much of his life was devoted to basic survival, and he'd already decided that he was going to be with Andrew for as long as the other man would have him. The other Foxes, however, were significantly less apathetic.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Matt asked incredulously during their weekly phone call.

“We’re getting married,” Neil repeated patiently.

There was a brief pause and what Neil assumed was a stunned silence on the other end of the line before Matt loudly cleared his throat. 

“Wow. Okay,” he said, obviously trying to regroup. “Hang on a second, I need Dan for this.”

Neil waited while Matt shouted for Dan and then listened to his old captain screech loudly when Matt delivered the news.

“You’re on speaker now,” Matt said once Dan had finally quieted down.

“Hi Neil,” she greeted. “Marriage, huh?”

“Yep.”

“And Andrew actually agreed to it?”

“He’s the one who asked,” Neil said. 

_“Andrew_ proposed? Andrew Minyard.” The shock in Dan’s voice was obvious. “How does a person like Andrew propose marriage?”

“When I was in the hospital they wouldn’t let Andrew see me at first because he didn’t have the right paperwork, so he said we should get married,” Neil explained. “Well, he didn’t really say we _should_ get married, he sort of just said we were getting married. I said sure.”

 _“Sure,_ he said,” Matt echoed faintly.

“Was I supposed to say something else?”

Dan huffed out a laugh. “No, Neil, that's very you. Have you told the others yet?”

“Andrew’s telling Aaron, Renee, and Bee. I’m telling everyone else. You guys were first, though.”

“Aw, Neil.” That was Matt’s trying-not-to-cry voice, Neil recognized, though he wasn’t entirely sure why it was making an appearance now. “Have you thought about a best man? Because I’m volunteering.”

“Do I need one of those?” Neil asked, surprised. They hadn’t explicitly discussed it, but Neil had assumed that he and Andrew would just sign a few documents at the courthouse and be done with it.

“You’ll need a couple of witnesses at least,” Dan pointed out, “and if you think you’re getting married without us there you’re delusional.”

“Okay,” Neil said. “Matt, will you be my best man?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Neil watched Andrew stir a pot of spaghetti over FaceTime later that night, the phone propped up against the counter so that Neil could see Andrew’s profile while he cooked.

“Do you want an actual wedding?” Neil asked suddenly, still thinking about his earlier phone calls with the Foxes. Allison had volunteered her event planning skills – or, more accurately, she’d told Neil that she was throwing them a wedding party and then hadn’t given him a chance to protest.

“No,” Andrew said. “Why? Do you have a book full of wedding plans somewhere to go along with your creepy Kevin and Riko stalker binder?”

“The others want to come,” Neil said, ignoring Andrew’s sarcasm.

“Renee and Bee want to be there too. Apparently it’s important to them.” It wasn’t as scathingly accusatory as it would’ve been coming from Andrew five years ago.

“Aaron?” Neil asked carefully. The brothers managed to have a semi-functional relationship that Neil still didn’t really understand, and Andrew had attended Aaron and Katelyn’s wedding after college.

Andrew shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll make an appearance.”

“I don’t think I want anything big,” Neil said. “It’d be nice to have a reason to have everyone in one place again, though. Is that okay with you?”

“Fine. It gives Nicky and Allison something to do besides bothering us.”

“You can choose the cake,” Neil offered, and that earned him a near smile from Andrew that felt almost as good as a championship win.

Neil woke up the morning of the wedding in a panic. He shouldn’t have agreed to marry Andrew; he had no idea how to be married, and he was almost definitely going to fuck it up somehow. His old urge to run resurfaced with a vengeance and Neil found himself searching for exits as his heart rate steadily ticked upward. 

A rustling from the other side of the bed drew his attention away from the latches on the window. Neil looked over at a sleeping Andrew, his mouth slightly open and his expression uncharacteristically open, and felt himself relax. This was Andrew, who trusted Neil enough to sleep in the same bed as him and didn’t even jolt awake anymore at the slightest shift of weight on the mattress. Neil still had no idea what he’d done to earn that kind of trust, but the fact that Andrew had given it to him was the ultimate reassurance that they were doing the right thing. 

Neil carefully lifted himself off the bed and padded over to the bathroom. He studied his reflection in the mirror over the sink for a long moment, taking in the auburn hair and clear blue eyes that stared back at him. Allison had offered to cover up some of Neil’s scars for the wedding, but Neil had adamantly refused. He was not going to marry Andrew wearing Nathan’s face.

The decision to get married in South Carolina had been an easy one – neither Andrew nor Neil had fond memories of their hometowns, after all – but it meant that the air was sticky with humidity and Neil was uncomfortably warm in his simple gray suit. The Foxes followed him and Andrew into the blessedly air-conditioned courthouse, causing a small commotion as a few of the locals recognized the old PSU championship team. 

Thankfully it only took a few minutes to fill out the necessary paperwork before being quickly ushered into a judge’s chambers, all of them squeezing in where they could find space in the small room. If the judge realized that there were three olympians standing in his office, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he smiled brightly at all of them and called Andrew and Neil to the front. After clarifying that they didn’t have a preference for their vows and wouldn’t be exchanging rings, the judge proceeded with a simple ceremony.

“Are you, Andrew Joseph Minyard, free lawfully to marry Neil Abram Josten?”

“I am.”

“And are you, Neil Abram Josten, free lawfully to marry Andrew Joseph Minyard?”

“I am,” Neil said the two easiest words he’d ever spoken.

“Then by the power vested in me by the state of South Carolina, I now pronounce you married.”

The Foxes all whooped and whistled, and Nicky took his cue to start sobbing loudly into Erik’s shoulder. Wymack would never admit to it, but Dan later swore that she saw him shed a tear or two of his own.

Neil had eyes only for Andrew, who was staring back at him with burning intensity.

“Yes?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Neil agreed, and swooped down to kiss him solidly on the mouth.

After a long, loud wedding reception hosted at Abby’s house, Neil and Andrew left their inebriated friends behind and returned to their hotel together. Neil felt like he was floating on air, and he knew by the way that Andrew hadn’t told him to take the ridiculous grin off his face that the other man was similarly happy despite his relatively unchanged expression.

“I have a surprise for you,” Neil said once they were alone in the silence of their room.

“I don’t like surprises,” Andrew reminded him.

“It’s more of a wedding present,” Neil revised, stripping off his dress shirt. 

Andrew flicked his gaze lazily over Neil’s exposed torso. “I’ve seen all of that before.”

Neil didn’t bother responding as he unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his slacks. Andrew’s eyes raked down Neil’s body and widened almost imperceptibly when they reached his legs. 

Neil smiled smugly. “I know we decided on no rings, because they’re weirdly possessive and we can’t wear them while we’re on the court anyway, but I still wanted something to commemorate the occasion.”

Neil looked down at the small addition he’d made to the ribbon tattoo on his leg. “It’s an exact copy of the key to the house in Columbia,” he explained. “Do you like it?”

Andrew didn’t reply, but he walked forward until he was standing close enough to Neil that he had to tuck his chin to his chest to keep sight of the tattoo. Neil let Andrew look, occupying himself with the view of the top of Andrew’s head.

“Why that house?” Andrew asked. It was a fair question given that Neil now owned keys to two apartments and a cabin in Colorado, but it wasn’t one he’d expected from the other man.

“You gave it to me,” he answered simply. “It was a place you felt safe, and you gave me a key and let me keep it.”

Andrew nodded sharply.

“Andrew,” Neil said, using a single finger to tilt Andrew’s chin up so he could look directly into his eyes. What he saw there nearly floored him; Andrew’s normally blank eyes were filled with something that Neil could only describe as awe. “Andrew,” he breathed.

“Yes or no?”

“Always yes,” Neil said, and Andrew didn’t bother correcting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this last part wasn't too out of character, I just want them to be happy so! bad! 
> 
> Thanks for reading / leaving kudos / commenting!


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